The Other Irish Genius Who Stopped By To Play Chess
by SilverMoonGrimm
Summary: "'"Excuse me, sir. If you didn't want coffee, all you had to do was say so." "And I did." he pushed the salt shaker forwards, effectively stealing one of her son's plastic containers of butter. "Check."'


**A/N Alright, so this was written right after I saw the first episode. Understandable, they did not yet have an archive for this show, so I had to wait to put it up. I apologize for anything I didn't get right. I couldn't find the name of the boy, so for most of the story he's just being called 'her son'. If anyone know, I'd love if you could tell me.**

**This is set at a non-specific time for Artemis and some time after the pilot for Scorpion.**

**Please enjoy and review!**

XXXXXXXX

**The Other Irish Genius Who Stopped By To Play Chess**

**by SilverMoonGrimm**

Paige Dineen smiled to herself as she marveled at how random it was that a second Irish genius was sitting in the cafe, playing chess with her son. Granted, this one was younger, paler, and actually had an accent, but even without Sylvester to calculate it, she knew the odds were astronomical.

"Can I help you?" she asked the teenager. She had been holding back because he and her son were getting along so nicely, but her boss was getting suspicious and the boy wouldn't be allowed to stay if he didn't order anything. _Stupid rule_, she thought. _I saved the lives of over two hundred people. Can't I give my son someone to talk too?_

"I highly doubt it." he responded, without even looking up.

"Are you sure? The coffee's cheap and you won't be allowed to stay here if you don't buy anything."

This time the boy considered for a moment, before pulling a twenty dollar bill from his pocket and smoothing that onto the counter.

"I'm sure this will be sufficient. I'd rather not taste any of the repulsing liquid you Americans pass for as coffee." Paige knew she shouldn't be offended; hadn't Walter taught her that genii tended to be completely lacking in social skills? But that was still no excuse.

"Excuse me, sir. If you didn't want coffee, all you had to do was say so."

"And I did." he pushed the salt shaker forwards, effectively stealing one of her son's plastic containers of butter. "Check."

"I know you must think I'm so beneath you since I don't happen to possess an IQ of 200, but-"

"On the contrary. I admire you for being able to raise your son so well on your own, despite his talent." The boy didn't even pause, simply stated his case and escaped the precarious position his king was left in.

For Paige, though, the statement meant more than just the ordinary fact as the child had presented it as.

"Check." Her son said. _Her son . . ._

"How did you know he was _my_ son?"

"He told me." Again, it was stated as an obvious fact, like one would tell you that it's Tuesday, or that it's about to rain.

"He _told_ you?"

"Yes. He can talk, you know." _Relax. Just take a deep breath and . . . okay, take another deep breath and now . . . another breath . . . alright, just breathe. And don't strangle the kid._

"Of course. I . . . it's just that he doesn't . . . talk, that is. Well, only to me. And Walter I suppose."

"Yes. Those are most likely the only people he views as being worth talking to."

"And so, _obviously_, you belong in that category as well?"

"Artemis is interesting." That was her son. She smiled and focused on him, eager to pick up on anything he might say.

"Is he? Is this Artemis?" He ignored her and stole the Irishman's ketchup package.

"My name is Artemis. Artemis Fowl the Second."

"I'm-"

"I know your name already." Paige realized she must of had some sort of horrified look on her face, because Artemis felt the need to explain. "When one wears a name tag . . ."

"Oh, right." She flushed. She slid the twenty towards her, stopping only when the boy grabbed her wrist. She jumped.

"Apologies. You forgot your tip." A tip? She didn't even serve him anything.

He crumpled up another green slip and shoved it into her palm.

"For a real chess set. I'd prefer not to be forced to use these awful substitutions next time."

And with that, he slid a sugar packet forwards, declared a hurried 'checkmate', and, with purposeful strides, walked towards the exit.

Paige glanced down at the bill, noting the large 100 printed on it, and turned towards her little boy.

The smile on his face was worth all the money in the world as he stared after his new friend.


End file.
